Where's Zack?

When Zack didn't show up for work on Tuesday, Brennan was worried.

"Has anyone seen Zack?" she asked the room at large, frowning. Hodgins looked up from his computer.

"Nope, not since I saw him walking home yesterday,"

"He walked home? Doesn't he live far away?" Angela asked, placing a manilla envelope on Zack's unoccupied desk. Hodgins shrugged.

"He'll show up later today,"

---------------------

"Is Zack here?"

Brennan shook her head as Angela and Hodgins walked into her office.

"Someone's missing?" Booth asked from his spot on the desk. Brennan nodded.

"Zack didn't show up today,"

A shrill, piercing ring filled the room. Hodgins grinned.

"My phone, sorry," he pulled the small gizmo from his pocket and flipped it open. "Hello? Hello, who is this? Zack is that you?"

Suddenly, the entire room's attention was on Hodgins.

"Where are you? What? O-okay we'll be right there!"

----------------------

"Zack!"

"Hush!" Booth said impatiently. "Yelling his name won't make him appear."

Hodgins sent a withering glare in Booth's general direction. The FBI agent ignored him.

"Agent Booth?" a small voice came from one of the alleyways. Booth led the group down the narrow path.

"Oh my god," Angela whispered, hands covering her mouth in shock. Zack lay on his side bruised and bloody on the ground, one leg twisted at a strange angle, pants pulled to his mid-thigh. His legs were covered in dried blood and skin was torn. Beside him sat a bloody metal pipe. Booth opened his cell phone and called 911.

"You found me," Zack said softly.

"What happened, sweetie?" Angela asked, her voice muffled by her hands. Zack looked ashamed.

"I was stupid and I walked home last night. Couple of thugs, I guess, they knocked me out with the pipe," Zack explained, strangely calm, tilting his head forward to display the bump and small patch of blood, "they beat we until I woke up and then they used the pipe to," Zack faltered, losing his cool demeanor completely, his voice cracking and stuttering, eyes spilling over, "They," Zack was unable to finish the sentence, so he stopped, pressing his lips together, tears still falling from his re-rimmed eyes. They heard the wailing of sirens in the distance.

"I'm going to the edge of the alleyway to flag down the ambulance," Booth announced, moving away. Soon the paramedics were loading the young anthropologist on to a stretcher and into an ambulance.

"Only one person aloud to ride," the paramedic said gruffly. Brennan stepped forward.

"I'll meet you guys there," she said. Her voice was choked, eyes shining with unshed tears. The ambulance doors were closed, shutting the injured Zack from sight. They somehow made it to someone's car and somebody, no one remembered who, drove them to the hospital. They waited. Brennan soon emerged.

"He's going to be alright," she said. The group let out a collecting sigh of relief. "As well as tearing in his," she swallowed, "anus he has a minor concussion, numerous cuts, a broken right ankle, and a fractured right fibula. He'll need crutches for a bit but," she sighed, "he's going to be okay."